


That Merry Dance

by sheepsong



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: F/M, the dumpster is on fire but it's warm and toasty ♡
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepsong/pseuds/sheepsong
Summary: 30 romances, Vincent/Yuffie style.2. [chiromancy] - Vincent's demons are tugging at their leashes.
Relationships: Yuffie Kisaragi/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. mother-of-pearl

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't written anything in a long old time and this is my attempt at getting back into writing fanfic. This series is based on the 30_romances (livejournal) prompt list.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 1 is "cold hands / cold feet".

On the fifth anniversary, they took a sleigh from Bone to the old city. Six of those who had come before - and little Marlene as well, pulled by white chocobos, their arms full of lilies. No one spoke beyond a word of greeting as they boarded. By the time they were drawing near, the sun was starting to sink and Marlene had long fallen asleep in her father's arms. The snow and the road both began to thin as they came closer to the forest, until they eventually had to unpack their gear, send the driver home, and continue on foot through the trees.

Barret cradled his daughter in his arm and strapped his pack to the mechanical claw that, these days, replaced his gun more often than not. He shrugged off offers of help and took the lead down the spine of the City. The air was oddly muggy, and as they descended into the centre, warm. The silence seemed to thicken around them, to push them to the place Yuffie had always thought of as the Gallery, the huge and treacherous bridge of bones.

When they got there, Reeve was already waiting. They unpacked what little they had beside the sunken, sodden old mattresses that sixteen-year-old Yuffie had thought so luxurious. They were all tired and fractious, and Barret was trying everything to get Marlene to go to bed, but she wouldn't budge without seeing Vincent, who hadn't turned up. “He _promised,_ ” she wailed, sat down, and sobbed.

Yuffie couldn't take it any more. “Betcha anything he's already here! He's old, Marlie, he probably dozed off already. If you're good and go to sleep he'll meet us in the morning.”

She didn't wait to see if the kid paid her any mind, just headed off into the City, head high, but wandering aimlessly in spirals. She let her ninja-self take over, guiding herself by the tiny sounds she heard around her, the quiet movements of the coming night.

Yuffie didn't know how long she'd been circling the City's delicate balconies and verandahs when she paused mid-step. Around her were ghostly shell-houses, steeped in twilight. It didn't feel right to disturb the place, and she instinctively arched her feet as she went forward, half-dancing from toe to toe between fallen leaves and tiny shells, the silvery sand glowing underneath. There was a fire in the distance, across the water, and beside it, Vincent was sitting cross-legged, working at something with a knife. She felt a stab of regret at coming here, at breaking the reluctant peace he'd made with the long-dead.  
  
Up close the whole scene was like a picture from one of the photo magazines; a long exposure, richly saturated, of an ink-blue sky that deepened everything, held it still and clear and bright, the firelight making the husk of his shell-home ripple and move. She saw the string of tiny lights woven around the entrance in place of a door, and thought of the little road-shrines in Wutai, imagining Vincent as a peasant tired from his day's work herding buffalo, or - or tending the fields, or something.

She faltered, wanting suddenly to go home. Instead her careless foot caught a twig, snapped it dully, and before she could adjust her stance Vincent had stood up in one long fluid movement, the gun that had lain in his lap now aimed dead centre at her forehead. A long moment passed, and then he seemed to notice her and holstered it, waiting. As she passed him, he gave her a nod. When Yuffie returned it, she noticed the piece of whittled bone lying forgotten at his feet.

Inside, it was dark and secluded. Though the air was still balmy, the breeze ran cool on her skin, and when she took a seat on the ledge running around the room, the chill hit the backs of her thighs and she shivered. Her feet dangled inches from the ground, and looking around made her uneasy. Everything about this place cried inhumanity: the ceilings too high, the rooms laid open to the elements. She didn't understand how Vincent could stand it.

Then he took a seat beside her, leaning easily forward, elbows on knees. She saw it then in the cold, pale beauty of the mother-of-pearl around them, in his bland, relaxed expression. “You feel her here, don't you? More than anywhere else.”

He nodded, gazing out at the dark, still water. “Cloud said it was in Midgar, for him. In the church. Until recently, I thought he was being foolish. Hanging on to the past.” He was frowning, and seemed lost in thought for a minute. He dropped his head, stared at his hands. “I believe now that I was the fool.”

She shivered again, and not from the cold. “I don't think so. It was the same for me, until-” she swallowed down a sudden, sick feeling, like prodding a bruise - “until Deepground, and-” the world spun around her in a nauseating twist that tastes of purple, Nero's skin like damp porcelain, beading with sick-sweat as he stared her down, no one's mouth should open like that, wide and yawing and- oh, so _dark-_

She was trembling, convulsions racking her body, but the dark was breaking. She'd squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them. Vincent was crouching over her, shaking her shoulders, his eyes wide with panic. Yuffie sank forward, still weak from the memory, and he lifted her gently by the elbows and sat her up.

“I-” she choked on the words, “That was why I had the ribbons. Now, since Nero...” she wiped her eyes roughly, “there are places that feel like hers, but even here - I c-can't stop seeing the darkness, when I think of her too much.” She looked up at him, wondering how long she was gone for, this time; seeing how the worry wrought lines in his face, a mask of fear reflecting hers. She drew back. “It's okay, really, I just need a minute.”

He sat back on his heels. “Is that all it is?” She shook her head, trying to find something to focus on, to shake the looming dread. Vincent was drawing something from his sleeve. “Here.”

He fastened it around her wrist and looked back at her again as if she should know what to say. She looked down. It was Aeris' ribbon, the one Yuffie had given him all those years ago - the twin to the ones she kept tied around her shuriken, pink silk with a tiny diadem of carved shell at the centre. Yuffie cupped her palm over it, tried to shield it from all the evil in the world. She felt a little delirious.

Vincent brought something dark and warm which he pulled tight around her shoulders. Outside, it had started to rain, the droplets making tiny chiming sounds against the shells, and his campfire was spitting and hissing. He made himself busy rebuilding the fire inside from a stack of seasoned logs. Yuffie wondered how long he'd been here, but didn't ask.

She envied him this easy solitude. She felt like a plant growing inwards instead of outwards, pricking herself with thorns when she moved. It had been like that for a long time, since the long weeks spent locked in her house in Wutai, if she thought on it; smashing the windows and breaking out didn't solve anything at all, really.

She was shivering again, but from the cold. When the second fire was burning steadily, Vincent gave her a long, considering look and came back to sit beside her. This time she took the arm he offered without flinching, and they sat there for several long minutes before she worked up the courage for the big question, the one she'd been holding in her head since the last time they spoke.

“How did you get it to go away? The- the place where Nero took me.” Yuffie shook her head as if to loose it from her. Vincent was warm next to her and she leaned into it, not really expecting a reply but relieved she'd asked. He sighed, long and slow, and whatever tension had been in his body seemed to relent, because now they were leaning against each other. She rubbed her palms together absently. Her hands and feet were starting to tingle as they warmed up; around them, the gleaming walls shimmered and danced with the firelight.

“The trick is,” he said, quite suddenly, “not to let him hold it over you, whatever it is.” He had picked up the discarded piece of bone-work, and was rubbing over it with his thumbs, like one of those worry dolls they sell in Mideel. She couldn't quite see what it was meant to be, if anything at all.

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably. “There's so many things.” Vincent made a sort of choking sound, and she glared at him.“What's so funny?”

“He can't get to you unless you let him. All those things...” he turned, gripping her elbow lightly to stop her pulling away. He spoke quickly, bluntly, “No one else would think they were important. But to you, they're everything.” She didn't say anything, looked away. “I'm right, aren't I?” His gaze was intense, dazzling.

She nodded, reluctantly. He stayed there for a few seconds – not long, but to Yuffie it felt like years – then went to tend the fire, leaving her with her thoughts. She breathed in deeply through her nose, out through her mouth, _hold ten, out five,_ just like a kid in training _._ It still worked. The darkness was just little pulsing dots and lines at the edge of her vision, now, ragged and fleeting. She flung firecrackers from her head out into the invisible air, chasing off the stolen babies, the Mako-twisted bodies, the Turks and the Don and all the dead mothers in the world, and while she did that, Vincent built the fire up with dry wood that popped and snapped comfortingly. She pulled the blanket around her more closely, watching him.

“You know, Vince, I never thanked you for what you did back then in Midgar, there wasn't time-” He raised an eyebrow and sat down again, cross-legged. Yuffie realised, blinking, that she wasn't scared of him. Maybe she hadn't ever been.

“Remember, you've saved me twice.”

She blushed what felt like a deep crimson, wishing the blanket were a cape. “Same as you. Just now, y'know, and Nero, and hey, I guess Omega makes three, come to think of it. I shouldn't even have been here, only I promised Marlene.”

“Yuffie,” he leaned back on his elbows, and every adolescent flutter in her belly rose up to grab her by the throat, because holy shit, he was being kind to her, and in what world was anyone kind to Yuffie Kisaragi? “All of you saved my life. Not just from Omega, but afterward-”

She interrupted, quickly, before her brain could get the better of her, “It's not the same, you know it isn't.”

“It _is._ ” He was, once, again, as calm and still as if carved from marble, the Vincent that she'd walked up to what felt like hours ago. “What I did for you, any of the others would have done. You'd have done it for me, and you did.” He smiled. “I told you I was a fool, once. Why do you think I came?”

“You don't live here?” Yuffie looked around.

“I've been staying here, but it's not where I live.” He waved a hand at the water-stained rush mats, the broken crockery.

“Then where-?”

“I'm still working that out.” He looked out at the rain. “Do the others know where you are?”

“I- uh, no, I kind of just walked off, _shit,_ it must be late.” She fumbled around the blanket for her phone.

Vincent pulled his own out of a pocket. “It's all right.” He dialled, muttered a few words, hung up. “Reeve. Said we'd meet them in the morning.” He looked slightly anxious about something.

Yuffie came closer to the fire. The floor was no softer than the bench, but it didn't hold the same chill. She lay down cautiously nonetheless, waiting for a coldness that never came. She woke once in the night, sweaty and confused, to see Vincent still sitting up, his eyes red and constant through the firelight.

In the morning, they heated noodles in a pan over the remains of the fire before setting off through the city towards the camp. They picked their way up a delicate bone staircase – the ribcage of some great beast, Yuffie thought, taking care not to scuff it as she climbed.

At the top, Vincent handed her the little carving - a plaque, with a flower in the centre, a lily. “Tie it to that ribbon,” he says. “I don't need it any more.” She closed her fist around it. They gazed out at the water for a minute, watching a flock of white birds swoop down to the lake.

Then she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Whatever sins you've committed, whatever crimes, tell her. Then leave them here, like everyone else, and start again.”

She shut her eyes, whispered, “I'm sorry. I'll do better.”

Back at their makeshift camp, Reeve and the others were gathered together. Tifa greeted them with a smile and a soft, sad look. “You're just in time.” Vincent joined the circle without a backward glance and Yuffie trailed behind him.

Marlene was scattering the wilted lilies around them, and Cloud stepped forward when she'd finished. He cleared his throat. “Hi, Aeris...”

Yuffie squeezed her eyes shut to keep herself from crying, and when the time came, she couldn't speak. Vincent came after her, murmuring too quietly for her to make out the words; Nanaki after him merely said “We miss you, friend.” When it was done, Yuffie sat looking out at the water again, wondering what Aeris would have said if she were here now; she'd have laughed at them, probably, pulled Cloud's hair and run off to be chased. She threaded the little plaque onto her ribbon, and thought of Vincent and the grief he carried like a millstone round his shoulders.

After a time, they began to pack up, in the same quiet, dejected spirit in which they'd arrived. Yuffie hadn't touched her things, and only had to retrieve her backpack before going to find Vincent. He was deep in conversation with Cid. As Yuffie stood waiting, Tifa touched her on the arm and asked, “Do you think Vincent would come with us back to Edge? Shelke's been asking for him.”

Whatever small bud of hope had been growing in Yuffie's chest began to shrivel. She'd been stupid, _stupid,_ to think he would come with her. She gave Tifa her best grin. “Sure, why not? Not like he has anywhere else to be.”

She took the wooded path out of the city, sweaty and damp. As she went, she hacked miserably at branches with her shuriken for want of anyone to throw it at, cursing Vincent and all of them.

As the forest began to thin, Yuffie heard a gentle thud behind her, and when she turned, Vincent was coming out from the trees towards her. She put her hands on her hips, tried her best to look nonchalant. “Thought you were going back with the others to Bone? To the airship?”

He shook his head. “I'm still working that out. In the meantime...”

“Well, I'm heading to Gongaga. Come if you want.” She shrugged and set off again, toying with the ribbon on her wrist. Her heart was beating much too fast, and before she'd taken ten paces, she heard him start to follow.


	2. [chiromancy]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: (subconscious/bury)  
> You can read this as a follow-up to the previous chapter - or not.

They burst into the inn, Vincent staggering in fits and starts like a wounded animal and Yuffie barely managing to propel him forward and upright. She hollered until the innkeeper hurried out from the kitchen, wiping flour from his hands onto an apron. “What's all this? Where's the trouble?”

She put on her best Rocket accent - “t'aint catching, only he's been bit by something, needs to rest. How much for a room?” Vincent chose that moment to falter and his weight nearly sent her flying. “Quickly.” The innkeep took the hundred-gil note she waved in his direction, and handed her a key. He pointed her down a corridor and watched her go, eyeing her the whole time. She wouldn't be surprised if he charged extra for food at this rate. A hundred gil? Damned thief.

Vincent slumped with his back against the wall while she fumbled with the key and their packs. She had to haul him up by the arm, and by Leviathan's blessed bones, the man was heavy. He stumbled in behind her and she slung him at the bed with a shove. He lay there, shivering, while she stood and thought for a moment. Gods above and below, it was _cold_. There was a bare fireplace, and a few logs; she did the best she could with them, but they wouldn't last into the night. She'd have to look into that later.

Vincent was shuddering and twitching on the bed, and she went to sit beside him, unsure what to do. How, exactly, did you deal with something like this? The bite hadn't been a lie, but this wasn't simply poison. When she thought about it, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen Vincent _truly_ poisoned; he got weak with it like anyone else, but seemed to shake it off within minutes. He hadn't turned a funny colour or got sick. It was like the poison was in his head.

She touched his shoulder. "What's going on, Vince?"

He was running hot, and didn't seem to register her presence; Yuffie cursed and unbuckled his cape before he got tangled up in it. She moved on to the gloves and gauntlet. As soon as they were off he started thrashing around; she decided to leave his boots alone in case he took one of her eyes out. Instead, she turned to his things. There were Cure and Esuna materia in his gun, and she fastened them into her bracer in case they might help.

They'd been okay, she thought, making good time through the forest to Gongaga, until a giant cricket – a freakin' _cricket_ – had slashed at Vincent's leg, straight through his leather armour, its jaws dripping acid that had eaten holes in his boots. She sneaked a glance. There was no wound, not even a healing scar, and if not for the state of his gear, she'd be doubting herself. She'd taken its head off with her shuriken, but he'd grown gradually more strange as the day went on, jumping at shadows and rustling leaves, until she'd finally realised there was something wrong, and steered them here instead of pressing on. He'd collapsed just outside of town, and it had taken most of her remaining strength to get him to the inn.

She sighed, uncorked an elixir - one of Vincent's, naturally - and took slow, tiny sips, wincing at the burn as it hit the back of her throat. His hands were clenched, his knuckles white, so she gingerly clasped his fist instead and tried a little Esuna, which seemed to do something – he gasped and lay still, which was a small improvement.

He was ghostly pale, one hand flat against his chest. As she looked at him, a memory began to fit itself together - Vincent lying in the back of the Shadowfox, half-dead, half of him missing. She traced a Cure over his forehead, another to his chest, his legs, wondering if it would work. She jumped. His eyes were open and he had clutched her hand before she could react.

"Yuffie, the _demons._ "

There was a glow behind his paleness, she realised far too late, a low magic simmering beneath his skin, singing _danger_ in tones of purple and red that etched hollows under his eyes. He was on the cusp of transforming. Yuffie swallowed the bile in her throat. " _Shit."_

She uncorked the elixir one-handed, downed the rest of the bottle in one gulp and threw the strongest Cures she could, a chain of casting that lit the room with bouncing, eerie greens and blues. It worked, but not in the way she'd hoped; he was gripping her hard enough to bruise. She wrenched her hand away, and he reared up with her, hissing between his clenched teeth. She smacked him down with her other arm, and he went straight down onto his back, releasing his grasp on her wrist. "I'm sorry," he gasped, "I'm sorry-" his hands clutching at nothing. Then he went still.

Yuffie sat there for a moment, in the sudden quiet, then went to bully more wood from the querulous innkeeper before the fire went out. She locked the door behind her.

When she returned, arms full of logs, Vincent was sitting up, looking pensive. His head snapped up when he noticed her. "They don't go away easily any more," he said, "they live on the edge of being real, I have to hold them back." The edge of despair in his voice could have made a saint weep for mercy, but Yuffie had lived through hellfire and comets and worse monsters than his, and she couldn't bear the sight of him looking so limp and weak. So she went to hold him, and suffered it.

"What happened, Vince?"

He sighed out one long, shuddering breath against her collarbone, his breath hot and shaky. "When I had Chaos, he used to make them go away when I was wounded and sick, until I was angry, and he'd pull them back when it was safe. Now, it's just me. I don't know if I'm strong enough." He gasped, a breath that was halfway to a sob. "Damn him, _damn him_." She couldn't make out anything else.

She wasn't sure how to deal with Vincent's rocking against her, or the low, frantic murmuring in her ear – he was clinging to her as if to a ghost, with the sense of a desperate, hesitant need, eyes down and away from her and his hair falling like a curtain between them. It made her want to snort. Still a gentleman.

Gingerly, Yuffie laid her hands on his shoulders, trying to get him to look at her. “-can't, won't, mustn't-” She gripped him more firmly, almost shaking him, and he shuddered. She said, more angrily than she really meant, "Honest to god, just get some rest. I threw enough cures at you to raise you from the dead." She bit her lip, slightly regretting her choice of words. "No wonder you feel like this. If you'd just _told_ me, you big idiot."

Vincent lay down when he was told, despite her innocent cruelty, and she stayed beside him, thinking furiously. He reached for her hand again, and she took it. The firelight was dimming now, and it was nearly dark.

"So, Vince, what's the big idea? Was the plan just to wait till you were nearly dead and go, oh by the way, Yuffie, I may become a slavering beast for a few hours unless you heal me?"

He groaned. "I never intended to. I thought I could handle it until we parted ways."

"Look, it's just the way you are, right? I'm not mad. I just need to know so, like, I can get out of the way, or cure you, or something, if you're just gonna go all beast-like whenever you get hurt." Her thumb ran along his life-line – too long, Cait Sith would have said, back when he was still in the business of palm-reading, too long - skipping the sun-line, and tracing the line of fate from wrist to knuckle where it crossed with heart and head. His breaths were becoming more regular, his pulse at her fingertip gradually slowing, and she dared to think he was over the worst of it.

Vincent twitched as she crossed his life-line again. "You shouldn't have to. You shouldn't have to see this at all. It's for me to deal with."

"That's what I'm here for. That's what we're _all_ here for, you dumb- ah, fuck it." She ran out of words and pinched him in the soft place below his thumb. He cried out, but softly.

"Yuffie, it's _dangerous._ Why do you think he did this to me? To punish me, to hurt-" He choked on the words and turned away.

She grimaced. “Hojo was an amateur, and a fraud, and most of what he did to you was a lucky accident. You've seen what my dad can do. Is _he_ twisting himself into bits over it?”

He glared back at her, something of the light back in his eyes, something furious. “ _Lucky?_ Whatever I am – this _chimera-_ is nothing at all like – like your father,” he spat, “and he made sure of it.”

Yuffie leaned up on her elbow and squinted at him. “That guy sure does take up a lot of space in your head. You sure you killed him? Or did he just float straight into your brain after you kicked him out of Weiss?” She prodded his forehead.

"I'm no better than one of those beasts from Deepground. His creation, just the same."

She said nothing, just looked at him. Took his hand, and once again, pinched it.

"Where's the demons, Vince? Huh? Show me."

She sat up cross-legged, watching him, waiting. He closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep. Yuffie rebuilt the fire, and after a few cautious hours, joined him.

As they reached the forest road the next morning, Vincent paused. "Yuffie?"

"What is it?"

"I guess that makes us even. Three for three." He set off along the road, leaving her running to catch up. If she'd been a little faster, she might have seen him grinning to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think.


End file.
